


The Case of the Unexpected Deliveries

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 22:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: Teddy is stuck studying case files for Auror academy.  This sparks a conversation between him and Harry about one of his strangest cases.





	The Case of the Unexpected Deliveries

Harry walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Teddy at the table, papers spread all around him. Grabbing two apples from the bowl on the worktop, he sauntered over to the table and turned a chair backwards and sat down, straddling the back. 

“You look like you could use a break,” Harry said, holding an apple out to his godson.

“Hm? Oh, brilliant!” Teddy looked up and took the apple from him, biting into it with a loud crunch. “Where’s Ginny and the kids?”

“She and Sarah are wrangling them down at the park.” Harry pulled over one of the manila folders and opened it, smiling at the sight of the well-ordered case file.

“Ah. I was wondering. No one was here when I came. So weird for this place to be so quiet.”

“Right? Get it while you can.” Harry crunched through the apple as he glanced over the case. It seemed to be about an incident where a wizard had thought he could get away with magically enhancing marijuana to actually make people float. Sadly, he was wrong and now he got to be a case file in the San Francisco Auror Academy. 

Teddy finished his apple and Vanished the core, sighing as he picked up the case file he’d been reading. “I’ve got to have this lot read and summarized by Tuesday. Dead boring!” He whacked the paper he was holding with his other hand. “Suspect Kevin Foster, age 32, height 5ft 11in, hair brown, eyes brown, no identifying scars. Witness reported seeing suspect use a Revealing Charm on unused lottery scratchers to identify winning tickets.” 

“This is what you signed up for. It’s not all cloak and dagger, yeah?” Harry chuckled, tossing the folder down to the table, remembering the endless hours he and Ron spent reading over case files during training, only to learn that most of their time as Aurors was spent reading and writing more case files. “Besides, this will teach you critical thinking, separating the wheat from the chaff to get the nuggets of what actually matters.”

“Yeah, I know. Couldn’t they have at least thrown some interesting ones in here, though? There’s got to be something juicer than … using X-ray vision enchanted glasses to cheat at cards.” Teddy sat back in the kitchen chair and crossed his arms, looking at Harry with narrowed eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me what?” Harry Vanished his own apple core and leaned forward, resting his chest against the chair back.

“What was the weirdest case you had? I mean, I’m sure it wasn’t all Muggle-baiting and off-license love potion sales, was it?”

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, thinking about Teddy’s question. “No, no it definitely wasn’t always dull,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “Let’s see, there was that bit about the purple cows in Shropshire, but that was some kids having a laugh.” 

Teddy kept his eyes on him, making him feel self-conscious as he thought back over his brief, intense Auror career. “I’ve got it,” he said, snapping his fingers. “There was this one time when someone thought he had found the best way to make a bit of extra cash …”

***  
Half-asleep, Harry expertly navigated the twisting warren of cubicles until he arrived at his own, wincing at the stack of files sitting in the middle of his desk. “Oh, God, not more paperwork,” he muttered under his breath as he sank down onto his chair. 

A moment later, he caught the scent of middling coffee as Ron appeared in the doorway of his cubicle, setting a steaming white mug on the corner of his desk as he drank from his own. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, leaning against the wall.

“How are you so goddamn chipper this morning?” Harry asked, taking a deep drink of the canteen coffee. It was better than dirty ditch water, but only just.

“Well, one of us didn’t stay out late carousing.” Ron affected a superior grin and Harry let the urge to smash him in the face blow through him, choosing to drink more coffee instead.

“For once,” he grunted. “I saw you leaving with that girl. Are you telling me that you escorted her home and then went home to bed like a good boy?”

“Nope. I did escort her to her place and then I —”

“Chief wants to see you both,” Andy Burnham said, poking his head over Harry’s cubicle wall, interrupting Ron.

They grunted in response, Ron rolling his eyes at the summons. Harry grabbed his coffee, ambling over to Arnold Jackson’s office, speculating with Ron as to what the meeting would be about. Neither one of them had any burning hot cases at the moment, so they were quite mystified.

“Ah, Potter, Weasley. Have a seat,” Jackson said when they entered his office. He was making notes in a file, his quill scratching industriously as they sat. Harry made himself relax and drink more horrible coffee, knowing that Jackson would make them stew before getting on with things.

He was beginning to feel more awake and alert when Jackson finally set down his quill and closed the file he’d been working on. “There’s been an uptick in the births of magical children in the greater London area,” he said without preamble, steepling his fingers underneath his chin as he looked at them.

“Sir?” Ron said after it didn’t seem like Jackson was going to say anything else. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Harry nodded in agreement. After the war, the Ministry had embarked on a program of encouraging more children in wizarding families, declaring the wizarding world had entered a new era free from fear. 

“Usually we expect about a dozen or so completely Muggle-born children with no known magical parent. In the last year, Vital Statistics has recorded twenty.”

“So … it’s gone up then?” Harry ventured after a few moments of silence.

“Yes. And we need to find out why.”

“Well, I guess more Muggle women are getting pregnant?” Ron shrugged, drawing a sigh from Jackson.

“The Muggle birthrate in the UK is holding steady at 1.8 per woman, so no, more women aren’t getting pregnant,” Jackson said, raising an eyebrow at Ron’s flippant tone.

“Sir, isn’t more magical children being born good?” Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

“It is, however this trend in Muggle-borns is suspicious. We expect some of course due to past interbreeding, but the Ministry has asked us to look into this.”

“What do they suspect?” Harry asked, thinking through several possibilities, none of them good. _Rape, then Obliviation, drugging, deception …_

“The Minister wants us to make sure no one is out raping Muggle women and then Obliviating them, for one,” Jackson said, uncannily echoing Harry’s thoughts. “It could be that there’s just a spike in births due to certain bloodlines coming together, but we need to be sure.” Jackson handed them each a manila folder. “Weasley, if I could have a few moments with Potter?”

Ron nodded and left the office, already looking at the file and closed the door behind him. Harry wondered what Jackson wanted to talk to him about and ran through cases in his mind. _I caught that bloke messing about with the cashpoints,_ he thought, coming back to attention when Jackson cleared his throat. 

“Potter, I have to ask. Do you have any _personal_ knowledge about these births?” he asked, looking mildly uncomfortable behind his desk.

“Pardon?” Harry asked, a frisson of shock going through him.

“Have you been … careful?”

The shock turned to disbelief and Harry found himself temporarily rendered speechless. “Sir, are you implying that I have something to do with this?” he finally said, managing to keep the rage out of his voice.

Jackson tilted his head to one side and gave a small shrug. “There have been a few articles here and there in the magazines,” he said.

Harry clenched his jaw, damning Rita Skeeter with his whole being. He’d been forced to publicly disavow a story about a witch who claimed him as the father of her child just last month. She’d concocted some crazy story about meeting him at a Quidditch match and having it off with him in the women’s loo during a break in the action. He burned with embarrassment at the memory of releasing a statement through his solicitors that he did not know the woman and had never had sex in a women’s loo. _At a Quidditch match, anyway …_

“Sir. You know as well as I do that none of those stories are true.” Harry focused on keeping his tone calm and measured, knowing that the worst thing he could do right now would be to fly off the handle at his superior. 

Jackson nodded in agreement. “I know, Potter, but I still had to ask. I hope you understand that I did not mean any offense.” 

Only slightly mollified, Harry nodded in return. “Anything else, sir?”

“No. I want you and Weasley to focus on this case. The Minister is eager to get to the bottom of this.” Jackson grabbed another file and opened it, dismissing him. 

Harry stood up, tucking the file under his arm and grabbing his coffee from the edge of the desk. He walked back to his cubicle in a daze and sat down at his cluttered desk, still astounded at the question Jackson had asked him. _I can’t believe that Skeeter woman still plagues me. Maybe I should have my solicitors send her a cease and desist?_ He shook his head, knowing that doing something like that would only delight the evil old cow.

“What?” he asked at the sound of Ron’s knock against his cubicle wall. 

“What did Jackson want?” Ron asked, moving a stack of files off the spare chair in Harry’s cubicle before sitting down.

“He asked if I had any personal knowledge about this uptick in magical births to Muggle women,” Harry said, a burst of renewed irritation in his gut.

“No shit?” Ron’s mouth dropped open, making him look like a surprised fish.

“Shut it, all right? I don’t need the whole goddamned department hearing!”

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Everyone’s seen the articles, yeah?”

“Yes, I know. I don’t need the whole department to ask me the same damn questions!”

“Jesus, fine!” Ron huffed and opened his copy of the file, slouching down in the chair. “What do you reckon?”

“I haven’t even looked at the file yet, have I? Jackson did say this is our priority.” Harry picked up the file folder and opened it, quickly skimming over the case summary. _Magical births to Muggle women in the greater London area has increased in the last year … need to ascertain whether this rise is due to the natural culmination of certain bloodlines or foul play._

He looked up to see Ron also reading the file. “Greater London. At least we won’t have to go all over hell and gone, yeah?”

Ron grunted and sat up. “Look at this. Says that the largest increase has been observed with single mums and lesbian couples.”

Harry frowned, finding the page Ron was referencing and reading it over for himself. “That is odd,” he murmured. “Single mums and lesbians. What do they have in common?”

“A lack of men to get them pregnant, usually,” Ron snorted, closing the file. 

“Exactly. So where do they turn?”

Ron shrugged. “Friends? Maybe the single mums are divorced or broke up with boyfriends?”

Harry looked at the page again. “I dunno. Says the average age for the single mums is thirty-five.”

“So? Mum had me when she was thirty and Ginny when she was thirty-one. That’s just a few years younger.”

“Well, that’s not really very old for a witch, but Muggles usually tend to have their children younger. I’m thinking these single mums are professionals.”

“Professional mums?” Ron asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.

“No, professional … professionals. Bankers, executives, that sort. They get their career going first and then they have children,” Harry said, clarifying for his friend.

“Oh. Well, isn’t that more difficult? No one to help?”

“The idea is that they’ve made enough money to hire the help they need.” 

“Okay. So professional single mums and lesbians. No men, so what do they do?”

Harry closed the file with snap. “They go to fertility clinics.”

***  
“You want me to do what?” Ginny asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Pretend you’re in the market for some sperm and visit a few clinics in London,” Harry said, leaning his elbows on the Mediwitch’s station in the department for creature-induced injuries. 

“Why do I need to be the one to do it? Why don’t you ask one of the female Aurors? What about Chloe?”

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in that sort of environment. You know, clinical,” Harry said, waving his hand around to encompass the busy hospital. “Chloe is our best option for this situation as far as age and skillset, but she’s out on maternity.”

“Oh, what did she have?”

“Dunno yet. According to Andy, she hasn’t had it yet and is quite upset about it.” 

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is nothing like a Muggle sperm bank,” Ginny said, making Harry wince as a nearby Mediwitch glanced in their direction.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “Come on, you’d really be helping us out.”

“Where’s Ron?”

“Compiling a list of fertility clinics in London.”

“And he sent you to sweet-talk me?”

Harry shrugged and grinned at her. “Have I been successful?”

Ginny closed the patient file and sent it over to a basket and then looked at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want dinner. At a nice place. No Summons.”

“Done.” Harry stuck out his hand and Ginny shook it once, firmly. “I’ll message you when we have the list, all right?”

“It had better not be more than three or four. I’m not going to every single one in this godforsaken city.” 

***  
“Well, do I look like a professional woman out for a vial of healthy, attractive sperm?” Ginny asked, turning around in front of Harry and Ron. She was dressed in a demure tweed skirt suit with knee-high boots. Her makeup was tastefully understated and Harry thought she was the very picture of a woman determined to make her own way in the world. _Not too far off the mark, honestly,_ he thought.

Ron crossed his arms and frowned at his sister. “You’re going to go in there dressed like that?” 

“How am I supposed to dress, Ron? Should I wear a tee shirt with ‘I love sperm’ written across the front?”

“You look great, Gin. Thanks for doing this,” Harry said, almost physically inserting himself between the two siblings. 

“ _You’re_ welcome. Not too sure about that other one over there,” Ginny said, shooting her brother a dark look. “So, I’m going to go in and ask to see their donor book, right?”

“Yes. And then duplicate it so we can look through it and see if there’s anyone we recognize.”

“Oh, God, what if we see Goyle in there?” Ron asked, giving a theatrical shudder. 

“Ugh, the fewer Goyles running around the better,” Harry said, turning to Ginny. “All right? We’ll wait for you in there, yeah?” He pointed to the pub down the road and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Of course.” She straightened her skirt and smoothed her blouse, pulling a small mirror out of her purse and giving herself a quick once-over before closing it with a snap. “Okay boys, see you in a little while. I better not see your picture in there, Ron, or I’m telling Mum.”

“You better not come out of there with a bunch of some tosser’s leavings or _I’m_ telling Mum,” Ron shot back, dodging her swipe at his head.

Ginny waved them off as she headed down the road to the dark red door with the discreet brass sign next to it and rang the bell, making shooing motions at them while she waited for the door to open. Taking the hint, Harry and Ron headed down to the pub to wait for her to come back with the donor book.

“Can you imagine, getting paid to wank into a cup?” Ron asked once they were seated at a table by a window with a view of the dark red door.

“There are lots of things I can imagine getting paid for, but wanking into a cup or whatever isn’t one of them,” Harry said, taking a long drink of his Guinness. He licked the foam from his upper lip as a thought occurred to him. “I wonder how often one can, erm, donate? Once a day? Twice?” Ron drank nearly half his own pint in long gulps before letting out a thunderous belch, making Harry shake his head. “It’s a wonder why you’re still single,” he said.

“You’re one to talk. I bet I could go at least four times a day,” Ron boasted.

“Four times? Come on, you’d be shooting dust at the end of it.” Harry thought back to his teenage years when it had seemed nearly impossible to keep his hands off of himself. _Have I ever … no. Three, maybe, but never four._

“Why do you think there’s so many Weasleys?” Ron grinned at him and Harry barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “What d’you reckon’s going to happen if there is a wizard donating sperm to Muggle sperm banks?”

Harry spun a coaster on its edge as he thought. “Dunno. Is it really a crime? He’s not strictly violating the statute because no one knows he’s a wizard. I suppose depending on how he’s representing himself, it could be fraud. Like if he says he’s a doctor or has a degree from Cambridge.”

“I wonder why this hasn’t happened before?” Ron mused, swirling the remains of his pint in the glass.

“Maybe it has and no one really twigged to it? Maybe the Ministry are just now really starting to pay attention to Muggle demographics?”

“Well, I hope it’s just some bloke trying to make a bit of extra cash and not anything … worse,” Ron said, draining his pint.

Harry blew out a breath and nodded, eyes fixed on the red door. “You and me both.” He sat up straight when he caught a glimpse of Ginny leaving the clinic. “She’s done.”

“That was quick.” Ron rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Let’s see what she brought us.”

A few moments later, Ginny was at their table, pulling a thick book out of her capacious purse. “There you are, boys. Have at it,” she said, setting it on the table. “I’m going to get a cider.” 

Harry pushed a fiver into her hand as she stood up. “Thanks for doing this.”

Ginny arched her eyebrow at him. “Are you putting this down on your expense report, Harry? Five pounds to Ginevra Weasley for services rendered?” she said, giggling at his scowl.

“Gerroff with you,” Ron grunted, paging through the book, eyes quickly assessing each picture. Harry crowded in close, scanning the pictures for any familiar faces. The information below each picture was interesting, listing height, weight, eye and hair color, education level, along with hobbies and interests. “Look at this one. Says he’s a chess champion. Bet I could beat him.”

Harry grunted noncommittally as he continued looking at the pictures of the donors the clinic had on offer. One image sparked a bit of a recollection, but he couldn’t place the bloke, so he went on. Ginny sat back down at the table and leaned in. “Oh, he’s nice,” she said, putting her finger on a dark-haired young man. “Black hair, blue eyes, over six feet and he enjoys rock climbing. I wouldn’t mind climbing that one.” Harry felt her elbow digging into his ribs and he elbowed her back, hoping Ron wouldn’t notice his blush.

“Well, I didn’t see anyone. You?” Ron finally said as he closed the book.

“No. But we hardly know all of the blokes around, yeah? We’ll take this and let the blokes down at ID have a crack at it.” Harry sighed and sat back in his chair, taking another pull at his pint as he thought. “I hope we’re on the right track. This clinic is one of the most well-regarded in London, so you’d think that if someone was bent on putting more magical children out in this world that this would be the place.”

“Unless he’s trying to stay low,” Ginny said speculatively. “Not make too many waves.”

“Maybe. Or we’ve got the wrong angle entirely,” Ron said, draining the last of his pint.

Harry didn’t want to dwell on what some of the other angles could be, but he knew the possibilities were still out there. _I’ve heard some pretty awful things in the war trials,_ he thought, remembering hours spent on spectator benches, listening to the litany of terrible things former Death Eaters had confessed to. 

“What about interviewing some of the mums?” Ginny asked.

“Jackson wants to avoid that if possible. He’s worried about either tipping off the donor or starting something that blows up into the Muggle press,” Harry said, finishing his pint.

“Well, there’s Obliviate, yeah?” Ron volunteered. “We could ask them which clinic they went to and which donor they chose and then,” he said, waving his finger in the pattern for _Obliviate._

Harry sighed and nodded. “I’d been hoping to avoid that, but looks like that’s what we’re going to have to do.” He glanced over at Ginny, still looking smart in her tweed suit. “Up for one more visit?”

“Did I say I wanted dinner at a nice place? I meant a _really_ nice place,” she said, fixing him with that little half-smile of hers and Harry just about felt his wallet getting lighter.

“Chiseler,” Ron muttered, shooting a dark look at his sister who only smiled sweetly back at him as she drank more of her half-pint of cider.

“Let’s split up. Ron, you head back to the department and see if you can get a list of recent Muggle-borns. See if you can find out which children were born to single mums or, erm, two mums, yeah?” Harry said, pushing his chair back from the table.

“All right. Grace in Records owes me a favor anyway. What about you two?”

“We’ll check out another one or two clinics.” Harry picked up the book of donors and handed it to Ron. “Take that with you and see if you can get the boys going on it.” He looked at Ginny still sitting at the table and raised his eyebrows. “Ready?”

“I’ve still got some cider left,” she said, lifting her glass to show him the two fingers worth she had in the bottom.

Ron snorted and flipped Harry a lazy salute. “Good luck with that one. I’m off,” he said, heading to the gent’s where Harry presumed he’d have a piss and then Apparate from there.

“Are you all right helping with this?” Harry asked once Ron was out of earshot. “I could have someone else step in.”

“It’s fine, I’m just giving you two a hard time. I will admit it’s a little bit embarrassing, coming into a clinic like that and asking about sperm donors, but so far they’ve been very nice.” She finished the last of her cider and stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her skirt. “Come on, let’s check out another one and see if our mysterious wizard has been making any deposits.”

Later that afternoon, Harry tossed another book of donors on Ron’s desk, making him look up. “How’d it go?” Ron asked, opening the book to look through the pictures as Harry sat down in his uncluttered visitor’s chair. 

“Didn’t recognize a single one. Did you get that other one down to ID?”

“Yeah. Haven’t heard back yet. Visited Grace and got a list of magical children born in the last year in London,” he said, leafing through the book quickly before closing it with a snap.

“Any of them stand out to you?” Harry relaxed against the back of the chair, resting his hands on top of his head. 

“Nah. Just took a quick look of the list. Haven’t really gone in-depth yet.” Ron leaned his chin in his hand and looked at Harry. “Interviews?”

Blowing out a breath, Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think so. God, I hate Obliviating Muggles.”

***  
“Have I said how nice of a restaurant I want dinner at?” Ginny asked as they walked down the tree-lined street. They were in Bloomsbury, not too far from the British Museum and Harry had thought that the woman had done very well for herself indeed.

“Once or twice,” Harry said, adjusting his tie as he checked house numbers. “Right here. Number nine. What’s our story?”

“We’re part of a primary school group doing outreach to local mums to let them know about the early start education opportunities in the area,” Ginny said promptly. 

“Very good. I think that’s worth some fish and chips,” Harry said, grinning when Ginny punched him in the arm and flounced up the steps to the door, ringing the bell.

Harry stood on the steps next to her, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use Imperius on the poor unsuspecting woman to get the information they were looking for. _Ginny will get us in,_ he thought, confident in her ability to talk her way past almost anything. A moment later, a woman opened the door, looking somewhat bemused at their presence on her steps.

“Good day, madam,” Ginny said, launching into her spiel. “My name is Petunia Dursley and this is my colleague Vernon. We’re members of the borough educational council and we wanted to let you know about the exciting opportunities we have to offer your little boy. Do you have a few minutes to chat with us?” 

The woman looked properly impressed with Ginny’s little speech and nodded, inviting them into a neat sitting room. Harry saw a pack and play in the corner with a sleeping child in it and he looked for any obvious sign of magic, but didn’t see anything. _His name is on the list, though._

In what seemed like seconds, they were all drinking tea with Ginny and the woman, Olivia Atkinson, chatting like old friends. “My mum tried to talk me out of it, but I was dead set on being a mum by the time I was thirty-five,” Olivia said. “Of course, I’d hoped to be married too, but so many men are put off by a successful woman.” It turned out that she was a partner in a very large accounting firm. _Successful doesn’t even begin to describe it,_ Harry thought, eyes roaming around the very well-appointed sitting room.

“That must be difficult,” Ginny murmured sympathetically.

Olivia shrugged. “I’m lucky in that I get to work from home most days and I have a part-time nanny.” She smiled and shook her head, looking lovingly at the sleeping child. “I can’t believe how much my life has changed since having Daniel.”

“He looks like a lovely boy. How did you decide which donor to choose?” Ginny asked, managing to ask the somewhat invasive question in a completely inoffensive way. 

Color rose to Olivia’s cheeks and she glanced away. “You’re going to think I’m ridiculous, but I picked out the donor because I thought he looked like Robbie Williams.”

“Indeed! I bet Daniel will grow up to look just like him!” Harry said, filing away the information. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to leave you with a few pamphlets for the local schools.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, coming out with his wand instead of the promised pamphlets, silently casting the Memory Charm. Olivia’s pretty face went blank, the pupils of her blue eyes dilating as the charm took effect. 

Harry and Ginny stood and quietly let themselves out of the house, walking quickly down to the corner and turning it, getting out of sight of number nine. “Robbie Williams? Who’s that?” Ginny asked.

“A pop star, I think. Really popular about ten or so years ago.”

“Is he one of us?”

“Not as far as I know.” Harry pulled the list they’d put together out of his pocket and crossed Olivia Atkinson off. “Looks like we have Ruby Turner in Kensington next. Has a little girl called Sophie.”

“If we’re going to be drinking more tea, I’m going to need a loo soon.”

Harry put an arm around Ginny’s shoulders and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll make sure you get to use the poshest loo in town.”

They visited four other women that afternoon, Ginny working her own kind of magic to get them inside and the women to chatting, patiently waiting for precisely the right moment to ask what made them choose the donor they did. Every single woman professed to picking the donor based on his uncanny resemblance to a celebrity, something Harry found increasingly interesting.

As they left the last woman, Ella Murphy, sitting dazedly on her sofa, Ginny asked where they were meeting Ron. “I told him the basement of St Martin-in-the-Fields,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow at her wrinkled nose.

“That place? It’s so noisy.”

“Which makes it perfect. No one’s going to be paying attention to us there. Come on.”

In the crowded church basement, Ron already had a table saved for them while they got coffee and pastries. “I’m so full of tea that I’m sloshing! I’ll be right back,” Ginny said, hanging her purse on the back of the chair before heading off to the loo.

“So, what’d you find out?” Ron asked, leaning in towards Harry.

“All five of them we chatted with said they picked the donor because he looked like a celebrity,” Harry responded after a sip of coffee, glad to have something besides tea.

“Yeah? Who?”

“There were two Robbie Williams, one David Beckham, one Daniel Craig and a Viggo.”

“A Viggo what?” Ron frowned.

“Mortensen. He was in that movie about that ring, yeah?”

Ron shrugged, nodding at Ginny as she sat down at their table. “That’s better. Now I can drink this without spilling over! Did you tell him about the celebrities?”

“We were just talking about that.”

“All right. So we know to look for Muggle celebrities in the books. Do you think there’s more than one bloke doing the impersonating?” Ron asked, biting into a croissant. Ginny scowled at him and shook her head, muttering about how in the world he was still single.

Harry tapped his index finger against the thick china mug as he thought. “No, I don’t think we’re looking at a, erm, sperm ring or anything like that. I think it’s just one. I think he’s … donating … and giving false pictures.”

“Obliviating?”

“Likely. It’s highly doubtful he looks anything like David Beckham.”

“Oh, which one is that again?” Ginny asked, pulling apart her own croissant.

“The footballer. Used to have all the blond hair but shaves his head now,” Harry said, smiling when Ginny wrinkled her nose.

“Well, I wouldn’t pick him if he were bald. Yuck.”

“Good thing you’re not picking him, then,” Ron said, giving her a stern, older-brother look. “How you think we’re going to find out who he is if he’s hiding behind pictures of Muggle celebrities?”

Harry looked at Ginny and raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“How far has medical magic come these days?” Harry asked, a plan forming in his mind.

***  
“I’ve decided where you’re taking me for dinner,” Ginny said as they walked toward the first fertility clinic they’d visited.

“Have you? That’s reassuring.” Harry glanced down at her, admiring her figure in the smart black pencil skirt and jade-green blouse. 

“You are taking me to the Glasshouse. Tomorrow night. Our reservation is at seven-thirty.”

“I see. What will I be wearing?”

“Not that,” she said, waving her hand at him. He was in his standard Auror getup of black tee shirt, black cloak and black cargo trousers, sturdy black boots completing the ensemble. 

“No? I thought black was the new black,” he said, grinning when Ginny elbowed him in the side.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” She stopped walking and took a deep breath. “All right. I’m going to march in there and get some of their finest David Beckham.”

“You have the card?”

Ginny opened her purse and took out her wallet, showing Harry the brand-new credit card with “Petunia Dursley” on it. It was one that was paid out of the Auror discretionary budget exactly for these sorts of things. Jackson hadn’t been too happy about using that much of the budget for this particular operation, but ultimately decided that he wanted it resolved as soon as possible with as little paperwork as possible.

Ginny put the card safely away. “Are you sure about the name?” 

“Oh yeah. I can just imagine Uncle Vernon’s face when she starts getting mailings from all of the London clinics.”

“You’ve got a mean streak, Potter.”

“A mile wide, love.” He looked down at her and gave her a brief hug. “Thanks for helping out. You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

“As what? My bodyguard?” Ginny gave him an appraising look, making him feel like he was under a microscope. “Look, if I went into that place with you, they would seriously wonder what I was doing there getting a vial of sperm when you’re right there.”

“Maybe I’m gay?”

Ginny snorted and tapped him on the arm. “Please. You can’t pull off gay.”

“I could pull off gay,” Harry said, affronted at her dismissal of his abilities.

“Prove it.”

“The Glasshouse?”

“All right.” Ginny traced her finger down his chest, flicking him on his flat stomach. “Now, go hide somewhere. I have some sperm to buy.”

Harry nodded and ducked into a gap between a couple of buildings, quickly casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he watched Ginny go into the clinic with the red door. _How long is this supposed to take?_ he thought as he glanced at his watch, seeing it had been about thirty minutes since she’d gone in. He was just thinking about going into the clinic after her when she came out, carrying what looked like a little silver bag.

Dispelling the charm, he stepped out of the gap he’d been lurking in, startling Ginny. “There you are! You scared me!”

“Did you get it? No problems?”

“One David Beckham, right here,” she said, handing him what turned out to be an insulated bag. “It’s frozen and I have very specific thawing instructions. They even gave me a little syringe. Want to be the one to do the honors?”

“Not with a syringe,” Harry snorted, peeking into the bag. “Right. One down. Who d’you fancy next?”

“Hmm, I think I’ll ask for the Viggo special at the next one.” 

After two more successful forays to two more sperm banks, they had acquired a Viggo Mortensen and a Daniel Craig. “Why three?” Ginny had asked.

“Just in case. If there’s more than one bloke that’s doing it, we’ll know for sure with three samples. Come on, let’s get down to St Mungo’s. I had a Patronus from Ron that he’s there waiting for us while you were in that last one,” Harry said, taking the little silver bag from her that contained the Daniel Craig impostor.

Ginny linked her arm through his as they headed off down the street. This last clinic had ended up being quite close to St Mungo’s, so they decided to walk. “Your aunt is going to be getting a very interesting array of mail soon.”

“Almost makes me wish I could see Vernon’s face again,” Harry said, making her laugh out loud.

***  
Ron looked dubiously at the three small vials of sperm in the test tube holder. They were labeled with the celebrities the donor had impersonated. “That’s it?” 

Ginny looked at him and smirked. “Just how much do you think comes out? It’s only about a teaspoon all told.”

Harry held back a smile as Ron blushed a brilliant scarlet, glancing at Ginny in her white lab coat. “How do you know?” Ron sputtered, managing to sound both outraged and embarrassed.

“I’m a Healer, Ron. These are the sorts of things I’m supposed to know. Now quit acting like a maiden aunt and go stand over there.” She pointed to the corner where Harry stood and made a shooing motion with her hand. Grumbling, Ron complied, folding his arms over his chest.

Harry watched, keenly interested in the spell Ginny was about to work. She’d told him that it was a variation of the paternity spell. “Usually you have the child there to work the spell on, but in this case, we only have half of the genetic material, so I’ve had to make some modifications.” Now she stood in front of the vials, her face a mask of concentration as she held her wand straight up in front of her. Faster than his eyes could follow, she made several precise movements, muttering an incantation with each movement.

Each vial seemed to belch a small whitish smoke cloud and Ginny stepped back, arms crossed as she watched the smoke writhe until it formed the image of a face. Harry wasn’t really surprised to see that they were all the same, but he was surprised at who it was. 

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” Ron said succinctly.

***  
Harry stood on the deserted road as Ron Disillusioned himself, pulling his cloak more securely around himself as the nighttime rain came down in earnest. “Ready?” he asked, just barely able to see Ron’s outline in the rain.

“Yeah. Summon when ready.”

Harry stuck his wand hand out into the air, high over his head, taking a quick step back from the curb as the Knight Bus seemed to appear out of thin air right in front of him. The rainwater made it gleam in the streetlights and Harry quickly stepped aboard.

“Look who it is, Ern! Why, it’s Harry Potter himself, all grown up!” Stan Shunpike said, thumbs stuck in the belt loops of his ridiculous purple trousers. 

Harry looked over the other occupants of the bus, seeing only one elderly witch in a quilted housecoat and mob cap. She was managing to both knit and read the current _Witch Weekly._ “Evening, Stan, Ernie,” he said, nodding politely. 

“Everything all right, Auror Potter? Are you headed out somewhere on Auror business? Need a hand? I could let Ern handle things for one night!” Stan said, whacking old Ernie on one shoulder. The old man simply grunted in response.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron drop the Disillusionment, neatly boxing Stan in between the two of them. “Actually, Ern is going to have to handle things for tonight. We’ll need you to come with us, Stan,” Harry said, feeling a slight pang as the blood drained from Stan Shunpike’s spotty face.

***  
“So it was a bus conductor?” Teddy said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What … I mean … what? Was he really trying to save the wizarding world or whatever?”

Harry laughed out loud at his godson’s bewilderment. “Oh, God no! He’d learned that he could get paid for doing something he usually did for free, yeah?”

Teddy’s eyes narrowed. “So, uh, how much does one get paid for such a donation?”

“The clinics he was donating to catered to a higher-end clientele, so he was getting about 80 quid per.”

“He must have been down there nearly every day for that sort of cash!” Teddy shook his head, admiration clear on his face. “So, did he confess to it?”

“He got down on his knees and cried like a baby. He’d done a bit of time in Azkaban during the war and was terrified of being sent back. I felt a bit awful for him, actually. Said he went in, did the deed, submitted the false info and then Obliviated the staff once he’d got paid.”

“Did he get a sentence for that? I mean, Obliviating like that …”

“Well, he didn’t get sent to Azkaban. The judiciary determined that there wasn’t any real malice on his part, just astounding ignorance,” Harry said, remembering Stan’s trial. He’d stood up and vouched for the man’s utter gormlessness.

“So he didn’t quite know what he was doing? He doesn’t seem like he was maybe the most brilliant fellow.”

“No clue. I mean, he knew how procreation works and that if a woman picked his sperm a child would be the result, but he didn’t know the child would be magical,” Harry said, remembering his astonishment when Stan confessed to using it as a purely moneymaking scheme.

“But everyone knows that magic is dominant … don’t they?”

“Apparently not everyone. Hogwarts left a lot to be desired in the, erm, natural sciences.”

“Well, he clearly didn’t grow up with Ginny telling him anything and everything about … everything,” Teddy snorted, picking up the case file he’d been reading over when Harry first walked in. “Why the celebrities?”

“Well, if you’d ever seen Stan, you’d know. Gin would say there’s beauty in everyone, but you’d have to look awful hard to find evidence of it in him.”

“And that’s your weirdest case?”

“Well, the weirdest one I can think of at the moment. I’m sure I’ve got a few others.” Harry stood and stretched. “Well, I’m going to let you get on with your reading. You staying for dinner?”

“Depends. What are you making?”

“I thought I’d try out the pasta roller Gin got me. Stick around for homemade ravioli?”

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Teddy said magnanimously.

“Excellent. You’re in charge of setting the table.” Harry left his godson in the sunny kitchen, stopping by the refrigerator for a Newcastle, his thoughts turning to the work he had waiting for him in his office. Sitting down at his desk, he grabbed a stack of essays and uncapped his favorite red pen, ready to do his worst. As he read the first essay on ghost-proofing charms, he found his mind wandering. _Hm, I should tell him about that time Ron and I had to go undercover …_


End file.
